‘I’m just wondering why the sudden dramatic change of image for tonight’s party.’
‘Could you be a little more specific, Xan? What exactly are your objections?’
Objections? Xan’s throat dried to dust. Who said anything about objections? It just wasn’t what he’d been expecting, that was all. His wife was wearing a white dress—as befitting a new bride just freshly back from honeymoon—but the outfit was a world away from the flirty mini which had barely covered her bottom on the day they’d wed. This concoction was made from a rich, heavy silk which moulded every curve of her delicious body yet fell decorously to the knee. Her hair had been coiled into an elaborate style, the lustrous curls tamed and gleaming like silken flames, with only a few strands left dangling, drawing attention to the swan-like length of her neck. The strappy silver sandals which gleamed against her bare feet were the only frivolous thing about her tonight, but even they exuded a certain class and style. This was a Tamsyn he’d never seen before. Sophisticated. Elegant—and the very opposite of unsuitable.
‘It doesn’t look like you,’ he observed unevenly. ‘This isn’t the edgy little redhead I know.’
A flash of colour flared into her cheeks. ‘So you don’t like it?’
He gave a short laugh. ‘Tamsyn, you could wear sackcloth and I’d still want to rip it from your body. I’m just not sure what has prompted this sudden transformation.’
She wound a strand of hair around her forefinger, so that when she let it go, it sprang into a perfect little ringlet which brushed against her neck. He suddenly thought how slim she looked—and how breakable.
‘I’m a chameleon,’ she said flippantly. ‘Didn’t you know? I can be whatever people want me to be and tonight I’ve gone for the sleek and understated look.’
His mouth twitched. ‘Any particular reason why?’
She shrugged. ‘I’ve seen the guest list.’
He raised his brows. ‘And?’
‘And it was exactly as I could have predicted.’ She tilted her chin defensively, her eyes momentarily uncertain, as if deciding whether or not to tell him. ‘Rich people. Well-connected people. The current darling of the Greek cinema who just happens to be bringing two hulking great bodyguards with her. An international politician or two—including a man they’re describing as the frontrunner candidate for the next-but-one US Presidential election.’
‘What do you want me to say? I’ve known Brett since I was at college and to me he’s just someone I learnt to play tennis with at Harvard.’ He raised his brows. ‘I offered to fly your friends over and put them up in a local hotel, but you refused.’
Tamsyn bit her lip. It was true, she had refused. Was that because she’d been terrified one of them might see past all the trappings and pick up on the heartache which was building inside her, minute by minute? Or because she was determined to keep her old enemy—pity—at arm’s length? She wanted to remember this night as you might remember a particularly beautiful rainbow, or sunset—something amazing but short-lived.
Her sister wasn’t coming either, citing a busy royal diary which was planned weeks in advance and didn’t allow for last-minute invitations to rushed weddings. But Tamsyn had detected a strong sense of disapproval in Hannah’s reply as well as disbelief that she’d actually tied the knot with Xan Constantinides. Tamsyn had wanted to write and tell her she was doing this mainly for her, but her sister suddenly seemed a very long way away.
‘Those are the kind of people I associate with, Tamsyn,’ continued Xan quietly. ‘You knew that.’
‘Yes. But it’s one thing knowing something and another thing facing them all for the first and probably only time—and that includes meeting your father. I’ve realised I don’t want to turn myself into some sort of spectacle—some caricature of a tart, who people can poke fun at and laugh about behind their back. I’ve realised I don’t want to be unsuitable. Not tonight. If I do that it’s going to make this evening even more of an ordeal.’ She expelled a sigh. ‘If you want to know the truth, I’m beginning to wish I’d never agreed to throw the wretched party in the first place.’
He gave an odd kind of laugh. ‘Well, just for the record, so do I and if people weren’t already on their way from halfway across the globe, I’d consider cancelling it. But we can’t. Which means we just have to get through it and make the best of it.’ An unwilling kind of admiration sparked in the depths of his dark blue eyes. ‘And just for the record, it’s a very beautiful dress. You look every inch the suitable bride.’
Trying not to be swayed by his soft praise, Tamsyn smoothed down the silk-satin bodice of the outfit she’d ordered online from a store in Athens and which Elena had smuggled in yesterday. It had given her a ridiculous amount of pleasure to see herself looking like the kind of bride she’d never thought she could be, but in the end—her clothes were irrelevant. All she wanted was for tonight to be over, so she could start thinking about her future.
She watched him walk over to the open windows of their terrace, thinking how much she was going to miss this. And him. She could hear the chink of glasses from out on the lawn as waiters began loading up their trays and in the distance, could see a long line of approaching headlights travelling along the coastal road. Her eyes ran over Xan’s powerful physique, trying to commit it to memory. The snowy white dinner jacket which contrasted vividly with the close-fitting dark trousers. She loved the way those coal-black tendrils of hair brushed against the collar of his shirt, reminding her that he looked as much at home on a sailing boat as he did a boardroom. But as he turned around she quickly wiped her face clear of emotion—eradicating all the yearning, so she was able to meet his cobalt gaze with nothing more telling than a look of cool enquiry.
‘Let’s go,’ he said abruptly.
Xan felt the adrenalin pumping through his body as he took Tamsyn’s hand and led her out into the garden, where burning flames lined the paths and fairy-lights were strung from the trees. The huge swimming pool had been illuminated with floating lights, which gleamed in the turquoise water like surreal water lilies and the front of the house had been floodlit in soft colours of rose and blue. He told himself it was pride in his beautiful home which was making him feel so pumped-up tonight, but it was more than that. He looked at the woman by his side, thinking that Tamsyn had never looked lovelier. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Easily visible in her white gown, he watched men turning to stare at her, just as they had once done at Kulal’s palace. Back then he remembered feeling nothing but a destabilising lust but now that had been overridden by a primitive satisfaction that she belonged to him and only him. His mouth hardened. But she didn’t, did she? Not really. She was his only for a little while longer and he needed to accept that soon she would be free, because that was what the plan had always been. Free for other men to pursue and to benefit from all that shining sexual promise which he had awoken. A powerful surge of jealousy coursed through him, even though jealousy had never been his thing. He told himself that the feeling would soon pass. That he’d never relied on a woman before and didn’t intend to start now. His life had been fine before Tamsyn Wilson had fallen into it like some wayward star, and that state of affairs would resume once they’d split.
Slightly mollified by his own reasoning, he introduced her to a number of guests and she responded with a charm which was contagious. Everyone wanted to talk to her and she instantly hit it off with a European princess, herself a former wild-child, and he could hear the two of them giggling together. Soon she was deep in conversation with a sultan she’d met at her sister’s wedding, and several other desert princes moved to join in with the conversation, so that very quickly she was at the centre of a significant power hub. At one point she looked up at him and he raised his glass in mocking salute, as if to silently remind her that her fears of blending in had been groundless. But something in the gesture made her eyes grow dark. He saw her bite her lip and a few moments later she murmured to him that she needed to speak to Elena, and slipped away.
Xan accepted a glass of champagne and looked